


who ya gonna call

by kissmesexybatman



Category: Batman (Comics), DCU
Genre: Gen, Ghostbusters AU, Ghosts, Humor, no capes AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-14
Updated: 2016-09-21
Packaged: 2018-08-14 22:45:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,598
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8031868
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kissmesexybatman/pseuds/kissmesexybatman
Summary: When an outbreak of ectoplasmic entities appears in Gotham City, four misfits find themselves facing a whole heap of resurrected trouble.
Or: the Ghostbusters AU no one asked for.





	1. do you wanna know how the story goes?

**Author's Note:**

> Ages: Tim, Steph, Cass and Harper are all around twenty-two, Damian is about fourteen or fifteen.

“Rise and shine, cupcake.”

Tim groaned and pulled his hood farther down over his shaggy black hair. “Go ‘way. ‘S early.”

Something heavy slammed onto the table next to his head as another voice chimed in. “It’s ten.”

He groaned again. “ _Early_.”

“Okay, but consider this-- I just made you coffee,” the first person countered.

He cracked an eye open. Stephanie stood in front of him, grinning and holding a steaming mug. He reached for it, not even caring it was the X Files “I Want to Believe” mug she’d bought him as a joke two years ago. It was coffee.

Harper had walked away from his desk and back to her cluttered half of the room, officially designated as her territory after everyone else suffered too many accidents to risk coming close to what Stephanie referred to as “The Danger Table.” Cass was sitting on the couch, flipping through a thick book, but she looked up to smile and wave at him. He tried to smile back, but his face muscles weren’t awake yet, so he settled for a vague nod.

Tim sipped his coffee, wincing as it burned his tongue, and warily eyed the metal cannister Harper had left him.

“Harper,” he croaked finally, trying to rub some sort of focus back into his eyes, “what is this?”

She pointed at it with a socket wrench. “It’s a prototype for a ghost containment unit. It isolates the specific energy of an entity and traps it inside. There’s a proton barrier between the walls of the can that prevents the energy from escaping.”

Stephanie perched on the edge of Tim’s desk and nodded in mock seriousness. “Like a thermos. For ghosts.”

Harper considered it for a second, a thoughtful look on her face.  “Y’know, actually…”

Tim sighed and downed the rest of his coffee. “Does it work?”

“I don’t know. Got a ghost I can try it on?”

He grumbled into his empty mug.

“Then let’s give it the benefit of the doubt.”

Stephanie nudged him towards the coffee pot on the counter behind the front desk, snorting at his mumbled thanks. “How much sleep did you get last night?”

Every vertebrae in his spine cracked as Tim stood and stretched. “Like, three whole hours, probably?”

“I’m truly impressed.”

He ignored the sarcasm in her voice and shuffled over to the coffee pot. “I had to finish grading some essays. Why do people always think they can BS their way through astrophysics? I mean, I get it’s an intro level, but c’mon--”

A medium-sized explosion from Harper’s table and a good deal of thick, black smoke interrupted the rest of his rant. Cass rolled her eyes as snagged the fire extinguisher under the counter and made her way towards the blast site, blowing clouds of white foam through the air. Tim watched until she found Harper, sooty but unharmed, before refilling his coffee mug. He wrinkled his nose as the smoke curled around him and cracked the window over the sink.

Stephanie threw herself into Cass’ abandoned chair. “Boy am I glad we disabled the sprinklers.”

Tim hummed in agreement, closing his eyes as he sipped at the coffee. _Beautiful, sweet nectar of life._

“You said that out loud. If those papers make you so angry, why do you even look at them? Just give everyone a B and be done with it.”

“Okay, A: I am not angry, I just don’t understand why some people would take a class if they can’t even explain how Einstein’s explanation of the photoelectric effect contributed to the modern-day understanding of the particle-wave duality of--”

“I can already feel the migraine,” Steph groaned, pressing her hands over her ears.

“-- And B,” Tim continued, “I have to make money somehow. I still have no idea how you manage to make rent every month.”

“Craigslist and EBay, my friend.” Her grin was almost scary, even though Tim had seen it more often than he cared to remember for the last eight years. “People are practically begging me to sell them their own dumb stuff for more than it was ever worth. Also, what are you talking about? You don’t even need that money, you’re practically rich. Not all of us have an inheritance to lean on.”

Tim snorted and walked back to his desk, ignoring the loud clattering as Harper started sorting through the damaged devices on her desk. He had finished the essays, but there were a few extra credit and make up assignments he still needed to go over. He let himself get lost in those for a few minutes, listening to Stephanie and Cass learning the words to some new pop song. Neither of them were very good singers. He hummed along anyways, concentration only broken when the phone rang.

Everyone looked at it. After a beat, Stephanie shoved her chair over to snag the receiver. “You’ve reached the Ghostbusters. What’s your paranormal emergency today?”

Tim scowled at her. “Paranormal Investigation and Research Association,” he mouthed at her.

She waved him away. “And what ghostly phenomena have you been experiencing, ma’am?” She paused and listened, then her eyes snapped back to Tim. “They _saw_ it?”

Tim practically tripped over his chair scrambling to stand in front of her desk. Stephanie leaned away from his reaching fingers. “Mmhm. Yes, I understand. Of course. We’ll handle this with the utmost discretion possible, I assure you. We’ll be there as soon as we can. Yep. No, thank _you._ ”

Everyone leaned forward as the receiver clicked down. Stephanie stood there for a long moment without speaking.

“Well?” Tim asked finally.

She pulled herself up tall and took in a deep breath, expression utterly serious. “Ladies and Tim…” Her face broke into a huge grin. “We have ourselves a ghost!”

 

* * *

 

An hour later, Stephanie’s bright purple Jeep shuddered to a stop in the parking lot of Gotham Academy. She cranked the gearshift into park and they all pressed their faces up against the windows.

“I mean, it _looks_ haunted, right?” Harper asked, cupping her hands around her eyes to see better. Cass nodded vehemently next to her.

“Looking haunted means job security for us,” Tim replied from the passenger seat.

Stephanie snorted. “And possibly, dangerous ghosts!”

“You said no one got hurt,” Cass pointed out, leaning forward between the front seats.

“Well, yeah, but no one’s tried to suck them into a thermos yet either.”

“It’s a ghost containment device,” Tim corrected, “not a thermos.”

“It’s a thermos,” the girls chorused.

Stephanie grinned at him. “You’ve been outvoted.”

“Hey, I’m the boss here!”

All he got in response was a skeptical look before someone knocked on his window. Stephanie snickered when he jumped. A woman was standing right outside his door, too close for him to open it, so he glared at Steph as he cranked the window down, trying to act professional. “Hi, are you Mrs. Walsh, from the--”

“Yes, yes,” she interrupted, breathless. “Are you the Ghostbusters?”

Tim suppressed a sigh. “Yes, we are. Um, excuse me... ” He reached for the door handle pointedly.

Mrs. Walsh skittered back to let Tim climb out, unfolding his legs gratefully. The others followed suit, gathering around as he asked, “Mrs. Walsh, can you tell us what happened?”

She wrung her hands and took a steadying breath. “Well, you have to know first that there was an _incident_ , oh, I don’t know how many years ago now-- twenty years? Thirty? You know how vague these things can be.” Tim nodded encouragingly, not really knowing at all. How could a school administration not know exactly when an _incident_ happened? “But a student, he was in the auditorium after hours, he was working on the lights, you see, one of the stagehands, and he--” She paused to press a hand to her mouth and leaned in close. “He fell over the rail,” she stage whispered. “The janitor found him the next morning. Oh, it was terrible! He had fallen onto the seats, and his neck had been almost… That poor boy. Anyways, ever since then there’s been a rumor, an urban legend, really, that the auditorium is haunted. The damaged seats were removed, but when they were replaced, people complained about feeling someone breathe down their neck, or finding strange substances on their clothes after performances. The students report hearing footsteps and having lights turn on and off mysteriously. You know, like it’s…” She glanced around and leaned in again. “Haunted,” she finished in a whisper.

“Well, that does sound like a possible--” Tim started.

“I mean,” Mrs. Walsh interrupted, “the school never wanted to acknowledge those claims, of course. Gotham Academy already has a bit of a, shall we say, colorful reputation? And of course the school board was never interested in investigating the claims. Just childrens’ nonsense, you know? But recently, we’ve been hearing more and more things from the students. People have reported seeing a shadowy figure on the catwalks in the auditorium, the lights have been moved at night while the auditorium is locked up, more footsteps and electrical malfunctions and then this morning… Well, maybe I should have Olive tell you.”

“Olive?” Tim snuck the question in as she paused for breath.

“Oh, yes.” Mrs. Walsh turned and indicated a few students sitting on the front steps. “These were the students who,” another whisper, “ _saw the ghost._ ”

“Okay,” Tim said, trying to regain some control in the conversation, “they seem like a good place to start. Thank you for your help, Mrs. Walsh. Do we need a janitor to give us access to the auditorium?”

She gave him a startled look. “Oh no, dear, of course not. During the day, most of the school buildings are unlocked to allow the students access. They’re always practicing and studying for something, you know?”

“... Yeah, of course,” Tim replied, remembering his own days in Gotham’s public high schools. He heard Stephanie’s barely suppressed snort behind him. He surreptitiously stepped back onto her toes as Mrs. Walsh went on.

“We really can’t thank you enough for coming as quickly as you did, dears. It means so much.”

“Our pleasure,” Harper said, grinning and propping something that looked like a giant metal Supersoker up on her shoulder. With her blue goggles and matching blue and purple hair, the overall effect was less than comforting.

Mrs. Walsh smiled back, a little uncertainly. “Are you sure you don’t need anything else? The students can tell you where the auditorium is…”

“If you can, it would probably be better to keep people away from the auditorium,” Tim started.

“The students have already been notified,” Mrs. Walsh interrupted. “The Headmaster didn’t want anyone else in the area until it had been… checked out.” She gave Harper’s device another skeptical glance.

Tim smiled at her, trying to look as trustworthy as possible. “And that’s what we’re here for. Thanks for all your help, Mrs. Walsh.”

She smiled back and started backing away. “If you need anything, the front office is just inside the main hall here. If there’s anything we can do for you, please let us know. We’ll be in contact about billing for services, of course...”

Stephanie and Cass waved goodbye as Mrs. Walsh faded from earshot. “She talks a lot,” Cass remarked.

Tim blew his bangs out of his eyes. “Yeah, she does. C’mon, let’s go talk to the kids.”

As they walked across the parking lot, Tim took a quick survey of the students waiting for them on the steps. There were five of them, three girls and two boys, all wearing the Academy uniforms. One of the girls was balancing on the stone rail surrounding the entryway. No one else looked surprised at her antics, although the red headed boy sitting right underneath her did keep glancing up nervously.

The girl on the railing hopped off when they got within earshot. “Are you the Ghostbusters?” she asked, eyes shining.

Stephanie grinned and pointed to the logo patch on her black jumpsuit. “Sure are.”

The girl jumped up and down. “Oh-em-gee that is _so cool!_ You guys hunt ghosts for a living?! That’s amazing! That’s fantastic! Can I be you when I grow up?”

Tim fought back his own smile.

Another of the girls, one wearing a black hoodie, snorted. “The mystic beings of this plane aren’t meant to be meddled with by people in _onesies_ ,” she spat, glaring.

The last girl, the one with silver hair, rolled her eyes. “Give it a rest, Pomeline. We all know what we saw this morning.”

“Yeah, a _ghost,_ ” the first girl said, still just as excited.

“I’m Tim,” Tim finally spoke up. “This is Stephanie, Cass and Harper. Can you guys tell us exactly what happened?”

“The other lady was not much help,” Harper added.

“I’m Maps,” said the energetic girl, leaning around Tim to peer at their weapons. “Are those ghost guns?”

Harper looked down at the metal device she still carried. “Sort of. It’s a proton cannon that fires a specific energy frequency at a target and ionizes an entity’s energy for a limited amount of time, causing a total physical manifestation.”

“It’s like an electric ghost lasso,” Stephanie added helpfully.

“That is _so cool._ ”

The silver haired girl shook her head at Maps’ distraction, smiling fondly. “I’m Olive.”

The red headed kid raised a hand. “Colton.”

“You’ve already met Pomeline,” Olive said, nodding at the crabby girl.

The last boy ignored them, head bent over an expensive looking smartphone. None of the others bothered introducing him.

“So,” Tim started again, with as much patience as he could muster, “can anyone tell us what happened this morning? Please?”

Olive spared a glance towards the boy ignoring them before talking. “Well, we were on our way to… rehearsal this morning when we heard something moving up in the catwalks. Maps said she saw someone up there--”

“A mysterious silhouette,” Maps clarified.

“-- so we decided to check it out. People aren’t supposed to be in the catwalks without a teacher around.”

“So naturally you all went up there instead,” Harper cut in, raising an eyebrow. “All of you are in theater?”

There was a beat of hesitation before all of the kids blurted out different answers.

“Yes!”

“No.”

“Do I look like a theater geek to you?”

Tim sighed. “Listen, we’re not here to make trouble for you guys. But we really need to know the actual story.”

They all exchanged looks.

“Please,” Cass added.

Olive crossed her arms. “Okay, fine. We were--”

“-- investigating,” Maps broke in. “The auditorium’s been haunted for, like, _ever,_ but Olive said she heard footsteps the other day when no one was there, so we decided to do some ghost hunting! But,” she frowned suddenly, brow wrinkling, “I thought ghosts were only supposed to come out at night. We were just scoping the joint, you know? We didn’t think we’d _actually_ see one.”

“What did it look like?” Tim’s patience was fraying.

“Green and glowing,” Maps answered.

“Kind of cliche, actually,” Colton added, fiddling with a Swiss Army knife he’d pulled out of somewhere.

Pomeline finally contributed. “He had a wound on his neck.”

“But it looked human?” Tim pressed.

They all nodded.

Stephanie elbowed him, excited and a little too forceful. “A manifestation in distinct human form?”

“That’s some _serious_ ghost mojo going on,” Harper agreed.

Tim nodded, humming thoughtfully and rubbing his sore ribs. “Okay, can you guys show us to the auditorium?”

The dark-haired boy finally raised his head, and Tim’s heart sank straight into his stomach as he recognized him. “What will you amateurs be able to do?”

Maps put her hands on her hips and scowled at him. “Shut the fridge door, Damian. They’re the _Ghostbusters_.”

Damian scoffed, but stood with the rest and led the group inside.

As they walked into the dark and frankly imposing school entrance hall, Stephanie leaned over and hissed at Tim, “Damian? Like Damian _Wayne_?”

Tim hesitated before nodding, glancing over to see a dark frown settle onto her face. He squeezed her wrist gently. “It’s okay, don’t worry,” he whispered back. “I can’t avoid them forever, not in Gotham.”

She didn’t reply. Harper sent him a questioning look, but Tim shook his head. He could tell them later.

There was a hand-written sign on the auditorium door asking the students to stay out until further notice. Damian pushed the door open anyways, and Tim couldn’t help but ask, “Why wouldn’t they lock the whole thing up?”

The students all glanced back at him, with expressions like he’d just said something terribly stupid. “It’s _Gotham Academy_ ,” said Pomeline, as if that explained everything, and followed Damian inside.

Tim exchanged glances with Stephanie, but they stepped into the dark theater after the kids.

“Hey, um, shouldn’t you guys, like, wait outside or something?” Tim asked, belatedly.

“I’m gonna go with ‘yes,’” Harper said, jiggling her proton cannon with a pointed look at him.

Olive crossed her arms again. “We’ve already seen it once.”

Tim shook his head. “No, you guys really need to leave,” he said, more forcefully this time. “We have to trap this thing, but it won’t like it. If it’s already a distinct human manifestation, that means--”

“It could hurt you,” Harper finished.

“Bad,” Stephanie added, fingers unconsciously brushing over her upper arm, where Tim knew she still had a burn scar in the shape of a bony handprint. She met his eyes and dropped her hand, nodding at the question in his gaze. She was fine.

He turned to face the kids again. “Seriously, it’s not a request.”

“You phrased it like one,” Damian pointed out, somehow looking down his nose at Tim even though he was a couple inches shorter.

Tim gritted his teeth. “Well I’m not now. Get out of here.”

Olive sighed. “Fine. C’mon, guys.” They filed back out into the hall, Maps tugging on Damian’s sleeve. He watched Tim the entire time, sharp blue eyes narrowed to slits.

“Those kids are weird,” Stephanie announced after the door closed behind them.

Cass raised her eyebrows at her.

“Hey, I don’t appreciate your insinuation.” Steph mock-glared at her, wrinkling her nose and making Cass giggle.

“Guys, come on,” Tim hissed at them, following Harper down the aisle. She had pulled another device from who-knows-where, some sort of giant transceiver with flashing lights, an upgrade on her prototype ghost tracker. Tim really hoped this one worked better.

They climbed onto the stage and stood there for a second, looking around. “I can’t believe people do theater for fun,” Steph muttered, staring out at the rows of seats. “Who would want all those people watching them?”

Tim shrugged and leaned over to watch Harper fiddle with the tracker. “Anything yet?”

“Well, I’m picking up faint electromagnetic fluctuations that could be consistent with a ghost in the area, but it’s also possible we’re just having strong solar flares today.”

Tim blew out a sigh. “Great.”

“Cheer up, buttercup,” Steph said, brushing by him to duck behind the half-open curtain. “It’s wabbit season!”

“Ghost season,” Cass and Tim corrected in unison as they all followed her.

Stephanie mumbled something about “serial literalists ruining my jokes.” Tim snorted.

“Hey…” Harper was frowning down at her instrument. “I think I’m getting something here.” A new light on top had started blinking.

Tim was opening his mouth to respond when they heard the footsteps.

They all froze. The footsteps echoed in the silent theater, rounding the corner from the storage room without anyone in sight. Tim swallowed as they got louder, approaching where them where they stood huddled together, still without any apparent source. Stephanie grabbed his arm, hard enough it kind of hurt.

The hairs on the back of his neck stood up as they passed right by them and faded up the stairs to the catwalks.

“Freaky,” Harper said finally. Tim wholeheartedly agreed.

Cass pointed out into the theater and they all turned to see a dark figure outlined in glowing green standing on one of the catwalks.

“We’re going up there, aren’t we?” Stephanie asked after a pause.

Tim readied his proton cannon. “Yep.”

“Awesome.”

Tim led the way up the stairs, trying to walk as quietly as possible in oversized steel-toed work boots. Harper followed him, ghost thermos at the ready, with Cass behind her and Stephanie bringing up the rear. He paused as he stepped onto the catwalk, looking around for the ghost. It had vanished, which only made him more worried.

“Hey,” Stephanie hissed up the stairwell. “What is it? Do you see anything?”

He turned to reply, but his words were lost as he took in the glowing green figure standing behind her.

Her face dropped as she saw his expression and she squeezed her eyes shut. “It’s behind me, isn’t it.”

Harper replied by firing her weapon. Steph and Cass threw themselves to the ground to avoid the stream of crackling red electricity, Stephanie yelling curses and Cass clamping her hands over the back of her head. Tim felt helpless, stuck at the top of the stairwell and half-blinded by the light from Harper’s attack. When the stream cut off, he blinked the light spots out of his eyes furiously.

“Where is it?” he shouted.

“I don’t know!” Harper yelled back, their voices echoing too loud in the narrow stairwell. Behind her, Cass and Steph looked up at him with wide eyes. “It vanished!”

He didn’t get a chance to reply before something grabbed him and threw him out along a catwalk, skidding on the black metal. He rolled to a stop against a stack of huge theater lights, cracking the side of his face against one. Scrambling to regain his footing, he could hear his friends yelling his name, and as he raised his head to look up he came face-to-face with a ghost.

It looked like a teenage boy, skin and hair faded to gray and eyes glowing green, but as Tim’s gaze traveled down, it fell on an ugly-looking wound on the boy’s neck that nearly crossed his whole throat. Blood still oozed down the ghost’s chest in a huge dark stain. As Tim looked back up to meet his eyes, the ghost smiled and tilted its head. It flopped to the side, still smiling and nearly severed, barely held on by a thread of skin and muscle.

Tim shoved himself backwards as fast as possible as the ghost’s smile dropped. It raised up, floating several inches off the catwalk, opened its mouth, and spat green ectoplasm all over him.

Tim shook his head frantically, trying to clear his vision before it attacked, and was blinded again as Harper fired on the ghost. It shrieked in a high, terrible voice as the red light wrapped around it, holding it rigid.

“Cass, get the thermos,” Harper yelled.

Stephanie sprinted past her, hooking her arms under Tim and hauling him backwards. Cass stepped up over the top of them and opened the clasp on the thermos, pointing the open end towards the ghost and giving Harper a helpless gesture.

“Button on the side,” Harper snapped back, hanging onto her cannon with both hands as the ghost started writhing.

Cass hit it. A stream of blue light blazed out of the metal cannister, engulfing the ghost and turning it into a blue-green smear as it was sucked into the thermos. As the last of it vanished, Stephanie surged up to slam the lid shut.

Everything was quiet for three seconds.

Down on the stage below them, Maps shouted, “That was _awesome!”_

Tim let his head fall back onto the metal with a groan.

 

* * *

 

Tim winced at the sting of the antiseptic.

“Sorry,” Cass said, dabbing carefully at the swollen wound where he’d hit his face on the stage light.

“S’okay,” he grunted. “Thanks.”

She smiled as she carefully laid a butterfly closure over the split. “You’re welcome.”

Stephanie walked up to where he was sitting on the open trunk of the Jeep as Cass started packing up the medical supplies. She handed him an ice pack, plopping down next to him. “How ya feelin’, champ?”

He gave her a look. “Who are you, my dad?” She just grinned in response. “Fine. It hurts a little, but I’ve had worse.”

“Brave man, playing down your war wounds.” She tapped her scarred shoulder again. “I feel your pain.”

He rolled his eyes. “Go ahead, mock me.”

“I try to not insult people who are covered in ghost slime.”

“That is bull and you--”

“Excuse me?” Olive’s voice interrupted, and Tim looked up to see the five students standing in front of him.

“Oh, hey, what’s up?” He pulled the ice pack away from his face, wishing he didn’t look quite so beat up and gross. Some heroic ghost fighter he was.

“We wanted to thank you!” Maps piped up, holding out a handmade card. Tim took it, feeling a smile creep across his face. It was the four Ghostbusters (okay, so the name stuck a little) fighting a green blob, shooting blue and red lightning and looking far more impressive than Tim was sure they actually had.

Stephanie leaned over to see it, laughing at the picture and flipping it open to see all five of them had signed it. She looked up, beaming. “Thanks, you guys! That’s really sweet.”

“You’re welcome! I drew it,” Maps replied cheerfully. “And made everyone else sign it. And come with me to deliver it.”

Harper came around the side of the car and chucked the thermos carelessly into the trunk. Stephanie and Tim both leaped off the bumper and glared as she started laughing.

“Sorry! It’s safe though, I promise.” She paused. “Okay, I’m like, ninety-two percent positive it’s safe.”

“Thank you for that,” Tim muttered.

Maps stepped forward to peer at the proton packs laid out in the back.

“Wanna know how they work?” Harper asked her.

“Yeah!”

Harper started in on a long and complicated explanation of the finer points of ghostology and paranormal engineering, Maps, Colton and Pomeline listening with varying degrees of enthusiasm and confusion. Olive turned to look back at the Academy, lost in her own thoughts. Damian was watching Tim again with the same narrow-eyed expression.

“Can I help you?” Tim asked.

“If you guys are ghost hunters, why are you so bad at it?”

“Harsh,” Stephanie commented.

Tim’ jaw ticked. “What does that mean?”

Damian folded his arms. “We were watching the whole time. That ghost had you on the ground, and your… partners seemed concerned. How many ghosts have you even captured?”

Tim didn’t answer for a moment. “This is the third,” he said finally.

“But that’s not-- you don’t understand,” Stephanie interrupted. Tim could see the frustration in her eyes. “Ghosts like this don’t happen very often.”

Damian leveled a suspicious glare at her. “Or you’re lying and you actually have no idea what you’re doing.”

Stephanie stepped into his personal space. “Listen here, you entitled little sh--”

“Steph!” Tim grabbed her arm, conscious that the others had fallen silent behind them. He took a deep breath and turned to Damian. “Look, you’re right,” he started. “We don’t have a whole lot of experience. But Steph’s right too. Ghosts like the one you saw aren’t very common. It takes an incredible amount of energy for an entity to manifest itself like that. Usually if people call us about a ghost, they’re complaining about weird noises, or little things moving around or going missing, or indistinct apparitions. This wasn’t like that. This ghost… it could have hurt people. There’s no one else in Gotham who handles this stuff.” He frowned. “At least, I don’t think there is. So we have to step up.” He shrugged awkwardly, feeling the weight of everyone’s eyes on him. “People need us. We can help.”

Damian tsked and walked away, nose held imperiously in the air, but Tim thought he looked a little paler after his speech. Maps ran after him, turning to mouth “I’m sorry” at them, the other kids following her more slowly. Olive waved a goodbye at them, and Tim watched them vanish back into the Academy.

“Little brat,” Steph muttered beside him. Tim hummed in agreement, although a part of him wondered why Damian had just walked away. He’d seemed kind of nervous, too...

Harper slapped him on the shoulder. “C’mon, let’s get you to a shower,” she said, and all thoughts of Damian Wayne fled from Tim’s mind.

“Yes, please,” he groaned, climbing into the passenger seat.

Even the sticky stiffness of the dried ectoplasm on his jumpsuit couldn’t distract him from watching the Academy vanish from the rearview mirror.

 

* * *

 

Two hours later, he had thoroughly scrubbed himself off in the shower at their office and was sitting in front of his laptop, wrapped up in a blanket and typing up a report on the encounter for their records. Harper had carefully stored the thermos - ghost still trapped inside - in a locked cabinet. They would figure out a way to dispose of it later. She and Cass had left thirty minutes ago for movie night with Harper’s little brother.

Stephanie walked over and set a mug down next to him. Hot cocoa this time. He smiled up at her. “You’re the best, Steph.”

She flipped her hair as she sat down on the edge of his desk. “I know.”

He snorted. “Whatever, Han.”

“Nerd,” she accused, punching him lightly on the shoulder. He laughed as he rocked with the movement. Her voice softened. “Are you okay?”

He leaned back in his chair, stretching his spine and frowning at her. “Sure. It doesn’t hurt that bad, really.”

She shook her head. “No, I meant with the whole… y’know, Damian Wayne thing. I thought it might bring up some… shit.”

“Tactful.”

“Thanks, I try.”

He huffed out another laugh. “I’m okay. It was a long time ago.”

She nodded slowly, and for a second he thought she was going to push it, but she just kicked her feet and hopped off the desk, slapping his hand and catching it in a tight grip. “Okay. I gotta roll, promised my mom I would stop by tonight, but call me if you need anything, okay?”

“Will do. Thanks, Steph.”

She smiled. “‘Course.” She hesitated a second and then leaned down, dropping a kiss on the side of his head. “Take care of yourself. You’re kind of my best friend and I love you. Or whatever.”

Tim swallowed and squeezed her hand. Stephanie had been a part of his life, a huge part of his life, for years. After his parents died and he had been put into foster care, he’d had so few constants in his life. Stephanie had always been the best of them. “Yeah, you too.”

She smiled and pulled away, walking out the front door. “Night, Tim.”

“Night.”

It was silent for all of three seconds before she stuck her head back around the doorframe. “Seriously, are you sure--”

“Get out of here,” he laughed, waving her away.

“Okay, okay.” Her footsteps vanished down the stairs. A minute later, he heard her Jeep roar to life on the street below. That faded from his hearing too, eventually, leaving him with only the sounds of distant traffic and rain, typical Gotham ambiance.

He sighed and kept typing, sipping his hot cocoa a little too soon and wincing as it burned his tongue. It still tasted good. Stephanie had put in extra marshmallows, too.

The phone rang as he was reaching for his mug again and he jumped. His fear quickly faded into self-directed exasperation. It was just the phone. He probably shouldn’t answer it, since it was technically after hours, but still. What if someone needed help?

He stood, taking his blanket with him, and walked over to the phone sitting on Stephanie’s desk. The plastic was cold under his fingers. “Hello, you’ve reached the Ghostbusters. What can I help you with tonight?”

“I have a job for you, Drake.”

Tim felt, briefly, like he’d been shoved into some third-rate Hollywood blockbuster spy movie. “Who is this?”

“Damian Wayne, you idiot.”

Illusion broken. “What? What do you want?”

“I just told you, I have a job for you. Keep up.”

Tim’s patience finally snapped. “Listen, I don’t know how you got this number or what you want, but I’m really not interested in playing any games with you. I get that you don’t think we’re qualified for what we do, but I’ve already made myself clear. I really don’t think we have anything more to talk about.”

“No, don’t--” Damian’s voice broke. Tim paused in pulling the receiver away from his ear. “Don’t hang up,” he continued, finally, collected again. There was another pause, and then, “Please.”

“What’s going on?” Tim asked warily, lowering himself into Stephanie’s chair.

“It’s Wayne Manor. I think it’s haunted.”


	2. funny how you're callin' on us now

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> LAST TIME: Scary ghosts, nosy secretaries, and teenagers.  
> THIS TIME: More ghosts, lots of yelling, and Lady Gaga.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ages: Dick and Babs are in their late twenties, and our new ghostly friend is around seventeen. 
> 
> ("Boy those timelines don't match up to canon at all--" Shhhhhhhhhh.)

Once again, Tim woke up to the sound of Stephanie’s voice. “Did you sleep here _again_ last night? Tim, go home.”

He groaned and rolled over. “At least I made it to the couch this time,” he mumbled, rubbing his eyes.

“A victory we can all feel good about, truly.” He squinted up to see her frowning at him. “Your face is bleeding again.”

“Oh, that’s what hurts.” He yawned, wincing as it pulled at his swollen temple.

She shook her head and muttered something under her breath, grabbing a tissue and crouching down to press it to his wound.

He lay there for a second, listening to the rain and watching the water drip off Stephanie’s blonde curls, before a thought occurred to him. “Oh, crap, what time is it?”

“Eight thirty. How late were you up?”

“Crap,” he cursed again, launching himself off the couch and scrabbling for his phone. “I have to go.”

“What? Go where?”

“It’s-- a long story…” he trailed off as she picked up one of the pieces of paper he’d left lying on the coffee table.

Her eyebrows twitched together as she scanned it. “‘... the most likely places in Gotham to experience these types of paranormal activity, of course,’” she quoted from the page, “‘are the oldest locations in the city-- those owned by the familial pillars of Gotham’s foundation, such as the Kanes, the Cobblepots, and the Waynes.’” Her tone told him exactly what she thought about the highlighting on that last word. She looked up at him. “Seriously? You told me you were okay.”

“Yeah, I know, I just-- this doesn’t have anything to do with that, okay? Damian called me last night.”

“Damian _Wayne_?”

“Yeah, I know. I am okay, I promise, but he says there are ghosts at Wayne Manor. I was supposed to go out there this morning, so I really have to go.” He grabbed his keys off his desk and shrugged his jacket on, snagging the backpack he’d packed the night before.

Stephanie scrambled to her feet and followed him to the door. “No! What? Tim, what are you _doing_?”

He paused on the steps to look up at her. “Steph, I have to. He needed help. He wouldn’t have called me otherwise.”

She gestured helplessly. “Tim, you can’t expect me to be okay with you going _back_ to that place, can you?”

He swallowed past a familiar tightness in his throat. “I know, but I have to. He sounded scared.”

She shoved her hair out of her face and stood there silently for a second. “Fine. But I’m coming with you.”

They stared each other down for a long moment before Tim relented. “Fine.”

Stephanie pushed down the stairs past him. “I get to pick the music.”

Tim clattered after her. “No Lady Gaga this time, okay?”

* * *

 

Thirty minutes and half of Lady Gaga’s _The Fame_ later, Tim parked in front of Wayne Manor. Stephanie made him leave the car on until she finished singing along to “Starstruck.”

They hopped out and crunched up the wet gravel driveway. A pit formed in Tim’s stomach as he looked up at the familiar building. Stephanie kept shooting glances his way, but she didn’t say anything. He wasn’t sure if he wanted her to talk or appreciated the silence. Most likely, he’d feel crappy either way.

Damian was waiting for them on the steps with a giant black dog. “You’re late, Drake.” His voice was steady this morning, if annoyingly sharp.

“There wasn’t even a specific time.”

Damian ignored him like he’d never even spoken and turned his glare on Stephanie. “Why did you bring her?”

Stephanie smiled widely at him and flipped him the bird.

Tim didn’t even try stopping her. “She’s my partner, and my friend. I wanted her with me.”

Stephanie shot him a glance. “You heard him, cake pop. Let’s get this freakshow on the road.”

Damian snorted and stood, the dog bounding to its feet next to him.

Stephanie waved. “Hi, puppy,” she cooed. Tim eyed the dog warily. He’d never liked them much, especially big ones.

“His name is Titus,” Damian told them. “You can pet him.”

Stephanie obliged, apparently forgetting all her earlier trepidation as she scratched under Titus’ huge chin and fondled his ears. The dog’s tail wagged dangerously. Damian patted him on the back, wearing what Tim swore was a shadow of a smile. “He likes you. Come on, we have to hurry. Pennyworth will be back before long.”

The name sent another slow wave of nausea through Tim. “Alfred’s still here?”

Damian’s sharp gaze returned. “I didn’t realize you knew him.”

“I… used to live next door.” It wasn’t a lie, exactly, but Tim had rarely even seen the elusive Mr. Wayne or his housekeeper when he lived in his parents’ mansion.

Damian still looked suspicious, but he let it drop. “The point is he’s not here right now. He’s out running errands.”

“Then let’s go,” Stephanie said, rising to her feet and wrapping a hand around Tim’s elbow. He shot her a grateful look as they followed Damian through the front doors.

“So,” Tim started, trying to stave off his rising anxiety. “What’s been going on? You were less than helpful over the phone.”

“You can never be too sure who’s listening, Drake,” Damian informed him loftily.

Stephanie gave him a disbelieving stare. “What is this, a Liam Neeson movie? Why are you so paranoid?”

It was her turn to be ignored by the teen. “I’ve been hearing… things. The Mansion’s always had weird noises, but it’s been worse, recently.”

“You said. What ‘things’ have you been hearing?”

Damian hesitated for a long moment before finally saying. “Footsteps. Voices.”

Tim waited. Damian didn’t elaborate. “Can you be _any_ more specific?”

“I hear… a man. Or boy, maybe. He-- he says my father’s name, sometimes. Or Grayson’s. Usually I can’t really hear it, but lately…” He trailed off.

“Lately…?” Stephanie prompted.

Damian looked them in the eyes, and Tim could see that flicker of fear there again. “He’s been saying my name.”

Tim nodded slowly. “Where have you heard this?”

Damian turned and led them down a dark hallway. “My bedroom, usually. It sounds muffled in there, like he’s talking behind a wall. But it’s the clearest in here.”

He threw open a set of double doors to a huge, well-lit library.

“Oh, great.” Stephanie blew out a sigh next to him. “Nothing bad ever happens in libraries.”

Damian frowned at her. “Are you being sarcastic?”

“Yes,” Tim and Stephanie said at the same time.

Tim walked into the library past Damian, Steph on his heels. He slung his backpack off his shoulder and rooted around for a second, pulling out Harper’s ghost tracker.

It started flashing as soon as he turned it on.

“Again,” Stephanie said, voice strained, “great.”

“What does that mean?” Damian asked from Tim’s elbow. He turned, startled, to see the boy had followed him in.

“What are you doing? Get back outside. This could be dangerous.”

Damian shot him a withering look.

Stephanie was looking behind them with a frown. “Hey, Tim?”

He turned to see Titus laying in the doorway. The dog was whining softly, eyes flicking between the three of them. “That’s probably not a good sign.”

The doors slammed shut.

Stephanie and Damian both grabbed onto Tim. If his hands hadn’t been full with the ghost tracker, he would have grabbed them back. Or Stephanie, at least.

“Tim?” Steph’s voice was low and steady, but her grip was painfully tight.

“On it,” he replied, reaching to pull something else out of his backpack. Damian let go of him as he moved, although he stayed right at his side.

Stephanie glanced down in horror as he shoved the ghost tracker in and pulled out a metal disk. “What are you doing with that?!”

“Testing a theory,” Tim whispered back. He could hear something now, a faint noise moving between the stacks of books that was drowned out as Titus started to bark.

Damian made an aborted move with his arm, like he wanted to clutch Tim again. “That’s the voice,” he hissed.

Tim looked down at him. Damian’s brow was furrowed, eyes fierce, but the expression fell flat when compared with the fear in his voice the night before. This was what he’d been suffering through for weeks, probably in silence, if Tim knew anything about how Bruce handled ghosts. No wonder the kid was so crabby all the time.

“Hey, it’s going to be okay,” Tim told him. “Just stay behind me and Stephanie, okay?”

Damian complied, even as he said, “I don’t need you to protect me, Drake.”

“‘Course not,” Stephanie said, eyes locked on the bookshelves around them, “but we are the ones with the ghost weapons.” The lights started flickering as the voice grew steadily louder.

Damian peered around Tim at the device he held. “What is that thing?”

“It ionizes ghostly entities within a radius and forces them to manifest,” Tim responded, fiddling with it until a light started blinking. “It’s useful for seeing exactly what we’re up against, but…”

“ _But_ it makes the ghost really powerful,” Stephanie cut in. Loose papers started swirling around the room. “ _Inadvisably_ powerful, Tim. This is a bad idea.”

He shook his head, slowly. “I think I’m right, Steph. I think I know who this is.” He held her eyes for a long moment before she looked away, staring up to the heavens.

“Lord save me from the stupid ideas of my best friend. Okay, do it.”

Tim hit the button on top.

Everything went quiet. The lights stopped flickering, Titus stopped barking, and the papers settled slowly to the floor.

Stephanie looked at Tim, who shrugged helplessly.

And then someone spoke behind them. “ _Finally._ ”

They turned to take in the ghost hovering behind them, a scowl twisting his face. He was maybe a year or two older than Damian, with dark hair and a bloody bullet hole in the left side of his chest.

Damian went pale. “Y-you’re--”

“Jason Todd,” Tim breathed.

“Holy _shit_ ,” Stephanie added.

Jason floated there, a few inches off the ground, arms crossed. “It took you long enough to notice me,” he said to Damian, who flinched back as he was addressed. The ghost’s frowned deepened, glowing green eyes flicking over to Tim. “And you. Haven’t seen you in a good few years, Replacement. Where have you been?”

Tim couldn’t suck enough air into his chest to reply.

Stephanie stepped between them, arm held out to keep Damian behind her too. “What do you want with them? Why are you here?”

“I’m here because I’m _dead_ ,” Jason snarled. “And Junior and Mulder over here are the only ones in this damn house who will listen to me.”

“Wait, how do _you_ ,” Damian stared at Tim, “know _him_?”

Tim ran a hand through his hair, ignoring the way it shook. “I don’t, really. It’s a long story…”

“Start talking, Drake,” Damian hissed, sudden anger burning in his gaze as he stuck a finger in Tim’s face. “I won’t--”

The library doors slammed open. A man in a police uniform stood there next to a redheaded woman in a wheelchair, both their mouths dropped open and both unfortunately familiar to Tim.

“What the _hell_?” Dick Grayson asked finally.

* * *

 

Damian and Jason both started shouting over the top of each other, each trying to get the first word in to their older brother, and then turning on each other as it became clear neither of them was going to give in. Stephanie whirled on them and started yelling too, something about calming down and handling this like adults. It probably would have worked better it didn’t come out at top volume.

Dick stared between Jason and Tim, face rapidly going white. Barbara watched for a moment before snapping her jaw shut, eyebrows drawing down over her sharp green eyes.

Her yell was loud enough to finally cut through the others’ squabbling. “SHUT UP!”

Everyone turned to stare at Barbara. She kept her gaze locked on Jason. “Jay…” she breathed.

“Jason,” Dick echoed, voice choked. Tim and Steph exchanged a wary glance before Dick cleared his throat and continued. “How… how are you here?”

“I never left,” Jason told him, voice tight.

Dick swallowed hard. Barbara leaned back in her seat, face drawn up in pain.

“I don’t need your pity,” Jason told them harshly.

Dick shook his head, never looking away from his lost little brother. “Jason…” he said again, stretching out a hand.

Jason’s fists clenched. “Don’t!” he howled, and a gust of wind blew through the library.

Everyone stumbled back, Steph grabbing for Tim’s arm a little too hard. Her grip helped anchor him, though, especially as Dick’s gaze turned to him.

“Tim, what are you doing here?”

Everyone looked at him. Tim shook himself a little. “Damian called....”

Dick was frowning now. “Why?”

“Because--” Tim started.

“-- Of me,” Jason finished for him, scowl back in place.

“I can answer for myself, idiots,” Damian snapped.

“Stop!” Barbara cried again, throwing her hands in the air. “Jesus Christ, can someone just explain what is going on? You,” she pointed at Stephanie, “who are you? What is happening here?”

Steph pointed at herself. “Uh, me?”

“ _Yes_ , you.”

“Okay, geez. Well… I’m Stephanie, hi. Tim and I are Ghostbusters, and Damian called us about a ghost, so we showed up to work a little of our paranormal activity voodoo, right, and presto,” she gestured at Jason, “here’s Casper.”

Barbara pinched the bridge of her nose. “I should have asked someone else.”

“Hey!”

“I don’t understand,” Damian broke in. “How do you know Drake?”

Tim gulped as he met Dick’s gaze again. “We were brothers,” Dick said quietly.

“Foster brothers,” Tim amended. His throat felt too tight.

Dick’s expression darkened, but he didn’t say anything.

“What? For how long?” Damian demanded.

“Seven months,” Dick answered.

Damian whirled on him, fists clenched. “Why didn’t you tell me? Or Father?”

Dick was silent for a long moment. “It was a long time ago,” he said finally.

Stephanie crossed her arms. “No, it’s because Bruce Wayne is a self-righteous bastard who only thinks about himself,” she snapped.

“Hear hear,” Jason said, and they all turned back to him, the proverbial elephant in the room. If said elephant glowed green and floated several inches off the ground.

“Jason--” Dick started again.

Jason slashed his hand through the air. “Shut up, I don’t want to hear it. I’m here now.”

Stephanie frowned. “Yeah, why is that?”

“What?” Jason asked, eyeing her suspiciously.

“Why now? You’ve been dead-- what, ten years? Why did you show up now?”

His face darkened. “I already said, I’ve been here--”

“-- the whole time, yeah. But Damian said he’s only heard you, _really_ heard you, recently. So what changed?”

Tim’s brain finally gained traction and started working again. Ghosts were good. He could work with that. “Something else was focusing the energy,” he realized.

Stephanie aimed a finger gun his way. “Bingo.”

Tim whirled, staring at the library around them. “But it could be anything, anywhere,” he muttered, starting to pace through the shelves. Footsteps clattered behind him as everyone followed, Stephanie jogging a few steps to his side. “It couldn’t be far, though, right? There’s an area of effect--”

“Unless you and Harp have it wrong,” Steph pointed out.

Tim nodded, still scanning the bookshelves. “It’s possible.”

“Doubting yourself now, Drake?” sneered Damian from behind him.

He shrugged without turning. “We thought we were the only ghost research team in Gotham, and we were wrong about that, weren’t we?”

“Wait.” Dick caught his arm. “I don’t understand. You didn’t do--” he gestured to Jason-- “this?”

“Tactful,” Jason snorted.

Tim carefully pulled out of Dick’s grasp, fighting back a wave of guilt at the hurt that flashed across his face. “No. I mean, yes, we did get Jason to fully materialize, but no, we didn’t do it at first. We just came because Damian called and asked for help. He’s been hearing things.”

Dick turned to his littlest brother. “Why didn’t you ask me first? Or Bruce?”

Damian crossed his arms defensively. “I tried.” Dick eyed him doubtfully. “I _did,”_ he insisted. “But no one listened. So I had to try… other solutions.” He eyed Tim and Stephanie disdainfully.

“And you got the only ghost hunter in the whole world who has a closet full of bad history with the Waynes.” Jason shook his head disbelievingly. “Good one.”

Stephanie glared at Dick. “Can you actually be any worse at familial relationships?”

“Sure, he could be Bruce,” Jason replied.

“I like you, Casper.”

“Fuck off, Goldilocks.”

Barbara had been quiet for a while, listening. “Why Jason, though?”

Tim shrugged. “No idea. I’m working on it.” He rounded another bookcase and found himself in front of the doors again. Groaning, he ran his hands through his hair again. “C’mon, Drake, it’s gotta be somewhere,” he muttered to himself.

Stephanie stepped up to his elbow as Jason and Damian started arguing behind them again. From what Tim caught, Damian was complaining about Jason’s methods of haunting, to which Jason replied that he didn’t have much choice. Tim couldn’t believe they’d never met before; they definitely argued like brothers.

“So what’s the move, boss?” Stephanie asked, voice pitched low.

Tim shook his head. “I don’t know. There could be something here, but if this person’s device had a bigger range than Harper’s, it could be practically anywhere. We have no idea what it is or what we should even look for.”

“Should we get her out here?” Steph was already digging her phone out of her pocket.

Tim hesitated before shaking his head. “Not yet. We’ll have the others look first.”

She frowned. “So what are we going to do?” Dick’s voice had joined the others’, trying to break the argument up.

“Investigate. If there’s someone else in Gotham who knows about this stuff, we’ve got to be able to track them down.”

“We really are Scully and Mulder.”

Tim snorted and continued. “There can’t be that many other people into ghost hunting. Add that to the list of people who would know about Jason Todd…”

Stephanie’s eyes narrowed. “Pretty short list.”

He nodded.

“What are you two plotting?” Barbara asked.

They turned to see her watching them. “Nothing?” Tim offered.

“Yeah, sure.”

Behind her, Damian threw a book at Jason’s head. It went right through him and smashed a lamp sitting on an end table. Dick groaned.

“Well, that’s our cue,” Stephanie said cheerfully. “It’s been a blast. So nice to meet the Waynes.” Without further ado, she ducked out into the hallway.

Tim gave Barbara an awkward wave and turned to follow Stephanie. A hand grabbed him by the wrist, and he turned to see Barbara watching him again, this time with a hint of sadness in her gaze.

“It was good to see you again, Tim,” Barbara said, voice soft. “I’ve missed you.”

His throat felt too dry, suddenly. “Yeah, me too,” he croaked, and offered her the best smile he could muster. “Bye, Babs.”

“Bye, Tim,” he heard her say as he pulled his hand free from her grip and left.

* * *

 

Tim sank into the passenger seat and groaned. Steph glanced over sympathetically. He’d tossed the keys at her as they left Wayne Manor. “You okay?”

He shrugged, watching the raindrops crawl across the window. The view of the city from across the bay was as beautiful as ever, even if the buildings were half-hidden by the drizzle. “Yeah, I guess.”

She hummed skeptically, but let it drop.

Another voice cut in suddenly from behind them. “So why--”

Stephanie yelped and slammed on the brakes. Tim jumped so hard his seatbelt locked.

“Calm down, morons,” Damian snapped at them, leaning forward between the seats. “Why did I never hear about you? Todd is being unhelpful.”

Tim finally freed himself from the seatbelt and turned to see Jason sitting next to Damian in the backseat. Or, hovering next to Damian. Whatever. He waved at Tim, a smirk on his face. “What-- how did you get in here?”

Damian gave him an unimpressed look. “Your car was unlocked.”

“Oh my god,” Stephanie said. “We just kidnapped Bruce Wayne’s son.”

Tim buried his face in his hands. “I’m _dead_.”

A car honked loudly behind them. Stephanie flipped them off in the rearview mirror as she started driving again.

“What are you doing? We have to take him back.”

“This is a divided street, Tim. What do you want me to do? Mad Max it in the middle of the bridge ramp?”

“I don’t want to go back. I want you to answer my question.”

Tim slumped even lower in his seat. “No reason.”

“I’ve never even heard them say your name,” Damian continued, like Tim hadn’t even spoken. “What did you do?”

“Yeah, Timmy,” echoed Jason, “what did you do?”

Tim didn’t reply.

“Okay, that is enough,” Stephanie said, glaring at them in the rearview mirror. “So help me, I will turn this car around--”

“If you don’t answer me I’ll tell my father you did kidnap me.”

“You little brat--”

“Steph, it’s okay,” Tim interrupted. Her knuckles were white on the wheel, and he’d seen her road rage enough times to know that Stephanie and driving angry was a bad combination. “Bruce kicked me out because I told him that I thought his son was a ghost.”

“Boy, does he look foolish now,” Jason said.

Damian was frowning. “That doesn’t make any sense. He wouldn’t just make you _leave._ ”

“Yeah, I thought so too,” Tim muttered, words bitter on his tongue. “But he didn’t really give me much of an excuse. CPS just showed up one day and took me to the next foster home.”

“Next door to me,” Stephanie added.

“Because you’re what we all care about right now,” Damian sneered.

“Of course you do.” She turned down a side street.

Tim turned to look at Jason, still a little floored he could actually _talk_ to him. “Why didn’t you tell him this stuff?”

Jason just shrugged. “I wasn’t exactly paying attention. You were there, then you were gone. End of story.”

“Also, why are you here?” Stephanie asked, waving some pedestrians across the street. Tim really hoped they didn’t notice the ghost sitting in the backseat.

“I’ve been stuck in that house for ten years. I’m kind of ready for a change of scenery.”

Damian scoffed. “Plus you’re avoiding my family.”

“I will slime you, kid.”

“Please, not in my car.”

“So what are we doing now?” Stephanie asked Tim, ignoring the squabble growing in the back seat.

Tim sighed. “Well, we need to take Damian back, but maybe Jason should stick with us. Harper will want to run some tests--”

“Hey, I am _nobody_ ’s lab rat,” Jason interrupted.

“And I’m not leaving until I find out what’s going on,” Damian added.

Tim threw his hands in the air. “Fine! We’ll get arrested for kidnapping while there’s some-- some ghost-maniac on the loose, and we won’t be able to help because everyone is being too dang stubborn.”

Silence fell for a minute.

“Wow,” Jason said finally. “Someone’s a little tense.”

Stephanie glanced over at Tim. “You kind of are.” Tim shot her a glare. “Sorry, geez.”

“I’m still not going home,” Damian announced, leaning back in his seat and folding his arms. Tim buried his head in his hands and groaned.

It was quiet for the remainder of their trip. Tim had to knock Stephanie’s hand away from the radio a couple times. Something told him the Wayne boys and Lady Gaga would be a bad combination.

Finally, Stephanie rolled to a stop in front of their building.

Damian looked out the window. “Are you serious? I don’t think now is the appropriate time for a snack.”

Tim glanced at the deli on the ground level. “Our office is above it.”

“And it is always time for a snack, kiddo,” Stephanie added, climbing out of the car.

Damian scoffed at the nickname, opening his door and hopping out too. Jason went to follow him, but Tim grabbed for his arm, forgetting he couldn’t actually touch him. There was an awkward moment as they both stared between Jason’s shoulder and Tim’s hand, before Tim just held it up in a placating gesture. “Um, you probably shouldn’t let people see you. You’re pretty…”

“Ghost-y,” Stephanie added, poking her head through the open door.

Jason glared at them both, crossed his arms, and sank through the floor of the car.

They blinked at the spot where he’d been for a long second. “I’ll meet you up there,” his faint voice echoed around them.

Steph looked at Tim. “That works, I guess.”

“Come _on_ , it’s raining,” Damian snapped.

Tim rolled his eyes as he unfolded himself from the car.

Stephanie unlocked their door, using her shoulder to force it open. It tended to stick when it was raining. Tim waited for Damian to follow her in first.

They were halfway up the stairs when someone screamed above them.

“Oh, shit.” Stephanie raced up the rest of the stairs and vanished around the corner, leaving Tim to follow a hesitant Damian.

They burst into the office to see Harper yelling and throwing various pieces of metal from her table at a nonplussed Jason. Cass stood in the corner, arms spread in front of Maps, Olive, and Harper’s younger brother, Cullen.

Stephanie was shouting back at Harper. “Stop, it’s okay, he’s with us!”

“Are you crazy?! That is a distinct human manifestation! Get a proton pack before--”

“Harper, stop!” Tim shouted, pushing past a stunned Damian.

“Maps? Olive?”

“Damian? I’ve been texting you all morning!”

Tim threw himself to the side, straight into Stephanie’s desk, as Harper’s next projectile went wide.

“Sorry!”

“Harper, stop,” Cass said, firm. “Steph said it’s okay.”

Harper shot her a wide-eyed look. “Are you serious? He’s a _ghost_.”

“It’s nice to know that bigotry lasts even beyond the grave. At least humans are consistent.” Jason crossed his arms, annoyed. “I’m not here to hurt anyone, okay? You have some great friends, Replacement.”

Tim rubbed his elbow where he’d knocked it against the table. “This is Jason. He’s Bruce Wayne’s son.”

“ _Adoptive_ son,” Jason and Damian corrected.

“Former adoptive son,” Stephanie amended.

“Okay,” Harper said slowly. “Why is he here?”

“Fuckin’ Christ, is it illegal for a guy to want to get out of the house for once in a decade?”

Tim sighed. “He came with us from Wayne Manor.”

“Yeah, but…” Harper gestured vaguely. “Why is he _here_?”

“We’re not sure yet.” Tim slumped into his chair. It wasn’t even noon yet.

“Better question, why are you guys here?” Stephanie walked over to the counter to start some coffee.

“Yeah, shouldn’t you be at school?” A thought occurred to Tim, belatedly, and he turned to Damian. “Shouldn’t _you_ be at school?”

Everyone looked at him. “It’s Saturday,” Olive said.

“Oh.”

“I’m dead and I knew that.”

“Maps called me this morning and said they found something in the auditorium,” Harper told them, lowering a screwdriver with one last suspicious look at Jason.

Tim frowned. “How did she have your number?”

“It is never too early to start an internship in paranormal engineering, Tim.”

Maps nodded enthusiastically. “Harper gave it to me yesterday.”

Tim decided to let it slide. There was only so much arguing he could take in a day. “What did you find?”

Harper started rummaging through the piles of stuff on her table. “It’s around here somewhere…”

Maps pointed across the room. “You threw it at Jason.”

Jason drifted over to it and peered at it closely. Tim walked around him, being careful to not accidentally put a hand through him this time, and picked it up off the floor. It was a metal ball with prongs coming out of one side and loose wires dangling off the other. Harper joined him and grabbed the device out of his hands, pointing at some black marks around the base of the prongs.

“These are scorch marks, which means the whole thing is probably fried. I haven’t been able to get it to do anything so far. Whether that was by design or not, no idea, but it sure ties up some loose ends for whoever this person is.” She absently flipped the screwdriver she was still holding through the air while she was talking. Jason leaned away from her.

“What do you think it does?” Tim asked, taking it back from her to look it over again.

She shrugged. “I guess it could do anything, but the most likely explanation is it focuses ghost energy. I made something like it once.”

Tim nodded. “Yeah, it works. We used it to bring Jason through.”

Her eyes lit up. “You did? It does? Oh my god, that is so awesome.” She turned to the ghost with an expression of wonder. “You’re beautiful,” she whispered.

Jason drifted back even farther.

“Sorry, but what is going on here?” Olive cut in. Her arms crossed defensively over her chest as they turned to look at her.

Cass nodded. “Please explain.”

Stephanie turned around with a mug in her hands. “Gather ‘round, kids, for a tale of fright and horror--”

“Damian called us out to Wayne Manor because he was experiencing increased ghost activity, we used Harper’s ghost summoner on him, it was Jason, we came back here,” Tim summed up.

“You’re no fun,” Stephanie complained.

Cass was frowning. “I don’t understand. Why summon him?”

“It was a stupid move,” Damian agreed. “What if it hurt us?”

Tim rubbed the back of his neck, awkwardly. “Because I knew it would be Jason,” he mumbled.

“How?” Harper asked.

Tim, greeted with eight pairs of curious eyes, sighed wearily. “My parents died when I was twelve,” he began. “I was put into foster care, and ended up living at Wayne Manor for seven months.”

“With Grayson.” Damian made it sound like more of a statement than a question, but Tim nodded anyways.

“With Dick, yeah. A year before my parents died, Bruce had lost his adoptive son, Jason.” Tim nodded at the ghost in question. “When I lived at the Manor, I saw signs of ghost activity. Eventually I asked Dick about it, and he said he’d been noticing strange things too, but Bruce kept denying it as grief, saying they missed Jason so much--” he broke off, glancing at Jason’s carefully blank face and wondering how much he should say; but he was already giving it all up, he figured, and continued. “Um, they missed Jason so much they were just making stuff up because they wanted to believe he wasn’t gone.”

There was silence for a long moment, broken by Jason’s sarcastic, “Surprise.”

Tim shot him another look. “I was sure there was more going on. I’d been interested in ghosts ever since I was a kid, so--”

“Why?” Damian interrupted again.

“I saw one when I was little. I was wandering around in uptown, waiting for my parents to come out of a meeting with some board member, when I saw a woman standing in an alley. When she turned around, she had a bullet hole through her throat. She was holding a pearl necklace in her hand,” Tim recalled.

Jason and Damian exchanged glances, eyes wide. Tim waited for a few seconds, but neither of them offered an explanation, so he kept going.

“Anyways, I was sure there was a ghost at the Manor, so I started trying to prove it was there, force an apparition or something. I was going off the books on paranormal activity I found at the library, mostly, and whatever I could find online, so nothing really worked. Bruce found out what I was doing, asked me to stop, I didn’t, and that was that.” Tim shrugged off the end of the story. “Now, eight years later, here we are.”

Harper looked at Jason. “And you remember him?”

Jason pulled himself out of a thought, nodding slowly. “Sort of. Before you guys ‘summoned’ me or whatever this morning,” he punctuated the word with air quotes, “everything was kind of just… blurry. I remember Replacement being there, I remember Damian showing up, but I didn’t have a sense of time, and I never left. It was like I was dreaming.”

They all sat in silence for a long moment before Cullen finally spoke. “Thanks for bringing me with you today, guys. This is way better than anything I was gonna do.”

Cass ruffled his hair fondly. Harper’s smile dropped suddenly, and she yanked her phone out of her pocket. “Ah, shit. We have to go. Cullen has a dentist appointment.”

He rolled his eyes. “You don’t have to take me, Harp.”

She snagged her keys off her table and shrugged into her jacket, pointing an accusing finger at him. “Then get your driver’s license.” Cullen grinned at her.

“Wait,” Cass said, nodding at Maps and Olive.

“Oh, yeah.” Harper glanced at the clock on Steph’s desk and bit her lip. “Crap.”

“I can take them back,” Steph offered, turning to the girls. “You guys live in the Academy dorms, right?” She waited for their nods of affirmation before turning to Tim. “You all right if I…?”

“Yeah, go.” He waved her off. “I’ve got some research to do.”

She rose an eyebrow. “And a kidnapping to reverse.”

“Ah, right…” Tim looked at Damian, who glared right back. Maybe he didn’t want Steph to go.

Jason floating over to lounge on the couch. “We’ll be good here, right, little brothers?”

Tim couldn’t help himself. “Technically, I’m older than you.”

Damian crossed his arms with a huff. “And neither of you is my brother.”

A headache started building behind Tim’s eyes. He rubbed at them. “We’ll be fine.”

He could practically feel her skeptical look as she ushered Maps and Olive down the stairs. Cass, Harper and Cullen clattered down after them, leaving Tim alone with the sound of the rain, his former foster dad’s teenage son, and a ghost. It was like the start of a bad joke.

Ignoring his company for the moment, he opened up Google and started searching. Everything was quiet for a few minutes. Damian walked around the office, slowly, poking at a few things on Harper’s table (which historically had proved to be a bad idea, but Tim was equally sure Damian wouldn’t listen if he told him to stop). Jason seemed content to just hang out on the couch. Slowly, Tim relaxed, letting himself settle deeper into his research. There had to be some clues out there. Someone had to know what was going on in Gotham.

“What are you doing?” asked a voice next to his ear. Tim definitely did not jump.

Jason was hovering over his left shoulder, peering at the screen of his laptop. Damian stood on his other side, a carefully bored expression on his face despite the gaze trained on Tim’s computer.

“Well…” Tim forced himself to stay put and not lean away from the invasions to his personal space. “I’m looking for another ghost expert based in Gotham. Whoever was behind the attack at the Academy was likely behind the one at Wayne Manor.”

Jason frowned. “How do you figure?”

Tim laced his hands behind his head and leaned back in his chair. “It’s like Steph said at the Manor. It’s not very likely you’d get stronger without a clear reason, right? And there’s no way there were two separate ghost-related incidents within, what, a couple weeks of each other?”

Damian’s eyebrows drew together. “But then why didn’t Todd show up like the ghost in the auditorium? Why did you have to use a different… summoner-thingy?”

“You said the ghost activity Jason caused has been getting worse for a few weeks now, right?” Tim waited for Damian’s nod. “Whatever device is hidden at the Manor, it must have been an earlier version. A prototype. Which means--”

“The Academy was a test,” Damian realized.

Tim nodded. “They were making sure it worked in a place they knew was haunted.”

“Shit,” Jason breathed. “If that was just a test…”

“They could manifest ghosts wherever they wanted,” Tim finished. “A full-scale paranormal attack on Gotham City.”

Damian shook his head. “I don’t understand. Why the Manor first?”

Tim shrugged. “I mean, I can’t say for sure until I figure out who it is, but it’s got to be someone who has a grudge against--”

A voice interrupted him from the doorway. “Tim?”

“... Bruce,” Tim finished.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks to everyone who read the last chapter and left a kudos or a comment! it means A LOT. feedback fuels my writin' fingers.
> 
> just a note here: i know some of the characters are a little bit... softer than what people might expect. i've done my best to stay true to the characters' natures (i'm especially trying to keep jason closer to his robin days than red hood) while also adapting them to fit this world (which is clearly a bit goofy), but let me know what you're all thinking.
> 
> there will probably be another two parts to this, maybe three if i'm wordy enough, and i will try to get those out as soon as possible. i'm guessing another week for each probably. 
> 
> thanks again for reading!

**Author's Note:**

> my high school auditorium was supposedly haunted but i'm pretty sure that was just a rumor the head techie spread so he could bang his girlfriend in the catwalks
> 
> comments and kudos always appreciated (either here or on my [tumblr](http://kissmesexybatman.tumblr.com/))
> 
> part two will be up in the next week or two


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